SURFACED
by MeteorOnAMoonlessNight
Summary: He buried his secrets, but he should have checked for a pulse.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a short story I wrote for Halloween. It's 5 chapters long, and I'll post daily to finish on the 31st.***

 **I have to confess to hating horror movies. I can do thrillers, but monsters and zombies and psychopaths chasing people to murder them- that's a hard no. So this is categorized as suspense/thriller, but it's M for violence and gore, language, and adult situations. I'll hold your hand, but I can't answer questions.**

 **The way I've arranged the chapters, each section is set at a different time. They're puzzle pieces that you'll have to put together until the end. I have left names out in some instances, and that's on purpose. It should be pretty obvious, but I will eventually have mercy on you and tell you.**

 **Are you with me?**

* * *

A protracted gasp. Acrid soil, damp and caked within a gaping mouth. Airways painfully constricted, eager for oxygen. A thrashing head creating a miniscule air pocket. Heart beating painfully slow. Clawing, digging at the surrounding dirt. Limbs nearly pinned by heavy earth, desperate for escape. Vision obscured by pervading darkness. White-hot pain behind rapidly blinking eyes. The smell of rot as air wheezes down a mangled windpipe.

Not dead, _not dead_!

Squirming shifted the dirt. One ragged fingernail scratched through the surface, followed by a finger. An entire hand freed, struggling for release from an earthen coffin. Kicking, fighting for life, flailing and raging against injustice. Coughing out carbon dioxide, gulping in clean air.

Brain kicking in gear.

Fragmented memories surfacing.

She remembered.

She remembered _everything_.

She'd been murdered.

* * *

As one of the best arson investigators for the city, Edward Cullen is called in on most of the fires that give the chief cause for suspicion. The fire this night is different, however; he overhears some chatter on the CB about a home on nearby Oleander St. having gone up in flames and the chief not liking the alibi, so he decides to head over. The usual rescue vehicles are there putting away their gear: ladder truck, tanker, ambulance, police cruiser. He expects to have to watch the firefighters as they finish up, but he doesn't expect to be there in time to see the apparent victim of the house fire standing on the sidewalk out front.

Edward parks his truck by the wet curb and gets out, heading over to the chief's truck and glancing up at the large two story Italianate with khaki colored siding and white trim. It was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Turning his attention to the chief and the victim, he notes the guy is wearing an oxygen mask and has a blanket around his shoulders. He's acting nervous as hell, gesturing with his hands before running them through his blond hair. He continuously glances back at the house every time he removes the mask to speak, until finally he's loaded into the waiting ambulance.

"What've you got, Black?" Edward asks the fire chief, walking up and shaking his outstretched hand.

Billy scratches the back of his neck and looks between the ambulance and the investigator. "Cullen. I guess it's a good thing you're here. Police answered a call about a stranger coming to the door for help, and instead the house was fully involved when they arrived. Now I'm getting vibes from the owner. Claims his wife left a candle burning before leaving the house and that he fell asleep, and doesn't know squat about the call. Never seen a fire victim who looked so polished, though. No soot, no cough, not a hair out of place. We've treated him like a victim, taken him to the hospital. We'll let him milk it while you check it out. It won't be cooled off enough for you, yet."

"I'll just do some snooping around in the less burnt areas. Thanks, boss."

Billy goes back to helping his men reel in the hose while Edward walks down the driveway and around to the back of the house. Taking out his flashlight, he shines it at the back steps, then the back door. Can't even tell there was a fire from the back. He circles back to the front door, or what's left of it; it's mostly a charred door frame. Stepping carefully, he heads into the foyer, glancing into the rooms on each side. Everything is wet, but the room to the right is unburnt. He walks in and looks around, at silver-framed pictures of a young blond couple in expensive looking attire, at antique furniture and oriental rugs. There's leftover cake with indecipherable writing on it sitting on the coffee table. Three china plates, three forks. Four glasses of differing styles, four napkins.

"If someone had a birthday or other celebration, where would the wife have gone? Who were the other two participants?" Edward speaks into his pocket recorder as he paces the room.

He's feeling vibes, too.

* * *

He was forced to endure a party to celebrate his birthday with the most boring people in his life. He could have thought of a dozen things he'd rather be doing, but appearances mattered. Pretending to be a perfect, upstanding citizen, he smoothed the sweater draped over his shoulders and headed back into the sitting room. Jane was nothing if not meticulous when it came to planning overblown parties, and she hadn't failed to make a big deal out of his birthday. A half-eaten cake still adorned the cherrywood coffee table, accompanied by tumblers full of amber liquids, half empty glasses of wine, and dainty china plates littered with crumbs. Wrapping paper was dutifully taken to the kitchen trash, and presents fawned over.

It was all terribly dull.

He longed to disappear to the club, to smoke cigars and get shit-faced with his true friends. At the very least he wished to escape back to his one bedroom apartment downtown, something all of the most important men at the club had. It was shrewd to keep separate residences in which to hide their alternate lives. The circle of influential businessmen opened up a utopia the day they invited him into their inner sanctum, sharing all their most delicious secrets. White collar men were not drug addicts, they merely dabbled in the finest of the world's illicit substances to improve their performance. Their careers were better, their sex lives greatly enhanced.

Secrets were kept, for if you broke the sacred oath of trust, your neighbor had more dirt on you than you did on him.

"Caius, can I get you anything?" Jane asked, bringing him back to his current reality.

He looked up at his vanilla wife; pale skin, blonde hair in a flawless chignon, pink cheeks, pink lips. Their sex life, such as it was, consisted of four minutes of missionary position every Tuesday night after the poker game, strictly to keep her from hounding him. His brain flashed unbidden to dark hair, red lips, a rounded ass. _The forbidden_. It was far too late for that.

"No, dear, thank you," he replied.

He smiled politely at his mother in her lavender twinset complete with pearls and kitten heels. His father was next to her on the antique chesterfield, wearing a cashmere sweater vest and tan slacks. He found them tedious to deal with, but he stayed in their good graces in the interest of inheriting their money and the family business one day, hopefully sooner than later.

His father proceeded to drone on about the latest stock prices for the company, which Caius gladly tuned out. Jane sat on the arm of the chair he was in, one hand on his shoulder. He felt the irresistible urge to shake her off, to call her a stupid twat and send to her bed in tears. He glanced down at his wrist before he remembered his watch was no longer there. His heart rate accelerated slightly as he recalled what happened mere hours before.

* * *

The stairs at the front of the house are unuseable, so Edward heads to the kitchen. At first glance, everything seems in place.

It's not Edward's job to worry about first glances.

Wrapping paper in the trash. A small china plate and a fork in the sink confirm his earlier thoughts that there were a total of four people in the house at some point in time today. He checks the dishwasher, finding what could have been used at breakfast. On the far back counter, he finds the cake box with the price sticker attached, reading 'Happy Birthday Caius'.

Not having a wife of his own, he assumes that on a man's birthday, the couple sticks together. Not always, surely. But what would be so important that she'd leave? As he turns to use the rear stairs, his flashlight catches something on the floor.

Dirty footprints. Not shoe prints, but a small bare foot covered in mud. Squatting, he pulls the pen from his shirt pocket and scrapes a little at the spot. Dried. Clumpy and easily scraped away. Leading to a chair at the bistro table tucked under the window in the corner of the kitchen. On the table is a glass of water with a dirty mouth print and a dirt-smeared washcloth.

He follows the footprints with his flashlight, and they lead in two different directions. In from the foyer, and over to the back stairs. Edward really wishes the fire was cooled off enough to investigate the other room at the front of the house, but instead heads up the back stairs, careful to avoid the footprints.

They lead to an untouched room on his left. He follows into the bedroom and through to a bathroom. He finds dirty, ripped clothing folded on the sink, and dirty handprints on the white tile of the shower. Feeling more than vibes now, he pulls his phone out and calls his buddy at the police station.

"Hale? This is Cullen. I've got something you need to look at."

* * *

Her vision was blurry, and she futilely wiped at her face. Wet soil clung to every part of her, obscuring her face and body. Her hair hung matted and tangled. Her teeth chattered and her bones ached. Hugging herself, she forced one foot in front of the other down the cracked sidewalk. There were lights up ahead, a contradiction to the dank hole she escaped from. Her brain moved sluggishly, slow to give directions to her body. As she passed houses, she glanced in the dark windows until she reached the one that was lit up.

Her feet started to carry her up the front walk, but movement at the next house down caught her attention. Their lights were also on behind a bay window, and she stood half-alive, staring at the domestic bliss like a movie played out in front of her face. Pale blond hair shone under the fancy floor lamp she could identify if she had her wits about her. An equally blonde but petite woman was perched on the arm of his chair. Her heavy lids blocked whoever they were focused on, but she watched the woman laugh and place her hand on the man's cheek. Only she recognized that cold expression on his face, making it clear he didn't even _like_ the woman.

Without much thought, she shuffled to this house, this fake representation of suburbia. Slowly, painfully, she climbed the steps to the front stoop. She leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath. Her throat burned, and her lungs were filled with knives. She shivered violently but managed to press the doorbell.

As the chimes rang throughout the large house, she passed out.

* * *

 **Pictures are on the blog! See you tomorrow!**

 ***All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer. The original plot is the only thing that belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Credit to SarcasticBimbo for her beta skills, and coppertopj, starsmina and NKubie for pre-reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

"It appears that someone was covered in dirt, barefoot, came in through the front door, was brought into the kitchen, and then came up for a shower. I've got a bra, underwear, a skirt, and a shirt that's ripped to shit."

He listens to Lieutenant Jasper Hale speaking on the other end of the line.

"I know that's nothing substantial yet, but combine it with a missing wife on her husband's birthday and the house burning down… Yes, my spidey senses are tingling."

Edward squats again and starts rummaging through the trash, his hands now gloved after everything he's found. Jasper is yammering in his ear when he spots something buried in the tissues and other trash, so he interrupts him.

"I found an expensive gold watch in the bathroom trash," he says, turning the watch over in his hands. "The back is inscribed with _Love, Jane_."

"Well, I pulled up the property record, and Caius and Jane Volturi are listed as the owners," the lieutenant informs him.

"So, he threw away his shiny, fancy watch dedicated to him from his loving wife? On his birthday?" Things are not adding up.

"I'll agree that it sounds suspicious, Cullen, but that's it. I can't go arrest the guy because he didn't like the gift." He could hear the heavy sigh on the other end.

"Have you located the wife?" Edward frowns as he stands, placing the watch on the counter next to the clothing.

"No. She hasn't answered her cell phone, and I haven't heard the results from the guy I have tracking it."

"Let me know when you know something," Edward says before disconnecting the call.

* * *

"You're a fucking _liar_!" she screamed at him. Her hair was wild around her face, tangled and frizzy. Her red-painted lips were twisted in a snarl.

"And you're a gullible cunt! Did you honestly think someone with my pedigree was _single_?" The very idea was ludicrous to him; she was clearly daft.

" _Ugh_!" She could still picture the gold watch she found on the bathroom counter as he showered, with an engraving on the back with someone else's name. _Love, Jane_. "You're an asshole, stop making excuses! You _lied_ to me!" She grabbed a plate from the table and lobbed it at his head.

He easily ducked the flying object, standing there smugly with his hands in his pockets. It only infuriated her further.

"It doesn't matter. We're done, if that's what you want. Nothing's changed, except your knowledge of the situation."

"It doesn't matter? It doesn't _matter_!" She lunged for him, slapping him across the face to bring him an ounce of the pain she experienced reeling through her. She felt betrayed, and he merely laughed at her.

"Don't _touch_ me again; you'll only get one warning." He turned his back to her, resuming his packing.

As she stood there with her head spinning, she felt lost. Eight months she'd put into this relationship, thinking herself in love with a wealthy, hard working businessman. They'd had lazy Sundays working on the paper's crossword puzzle in bed, sipping mimosas and nibbling on each other. Exciting evenings out where he showed her off to his friends, always proud to have such a beautiful and intelligent companion on his arm. Instead, she was merely a jaunt to stave off boredom from the wife and house in the suburbs.

"You're a motherfucker, you know that? Not a thing about this even phases you. We were building a life together, even if we never discussed marriage. At least, _I_ was building a life with you. _You're_ a fucking fraud." She paced as she calculated who she could rat him out to that would do the most damage, and figured his boss would do. Or maybe the men at the club. Fuck, she just realized that they had known what she was all along. _Mistress_.

She screamed again to let out her frustration before picking up the vase of flowers she'd so carefully arranged to go with the birthday dinner she'd painstakingly made. She heaved it in his direction, disappointed that it missed but mollified when the water splashed out against the side of his head.

She would look back on this moment in time as the axis of her world not only tipping, but flipping upside down.

He turned on her, fury evident on his face. He was sick of her disrespecting him, indignant with her questioning his decisions. And now she had the audacity to throw a vase at his head? She needed putting in her place, and he felt himself growing hard at the thought. Adrenaline raced through his veins, fueled by the drugs and the look of pure terror on her lovely features as he advanced on her. Yes, he would enjoy teaching her a lesson.

* * *

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the flow of conversation. Jane hopped up and made her way to the front door, unaware that her entire life was about to change drastically.

She pulled open the door, startled to see a filthy woman collapsed on her doormat. Frowning, she wondered if it was a homeless person looking for a handout.

"Who is it, dear?" she heard her mother-in-law ask as she entered the foyer.

"I don't quite know, Mother. What do you think?"

The older woman came to the door and peered out at the porch. "Oh! We must help her, Jane. Marcus! Caius!"

Jane watched Didi lean down to the woman and shake her shoulders. She heard her murmuring to the girl, but couldn't make out the words. The rustle of the men coming in behind her caught her attention, and she looked into her husband's face as he took in what was going on. She knew he despised her these days, as she was not as stupid as he thought. The expression on his face frightened her; that mixture of pure loathing and revulsion he typically reserved for his wife was now aimed at the unknown woman.

Marcus directed Didi to one side and together they shifted the girl, working to lift her. They brought her to the kitchen and sat her in a chair, Marcus keeping his hands on her shoulders. Everyone followed, the house now a flurry of activity. Didi brought a glass of water, and Jane a washcloth from the half bath under the stairs. Caius stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, silently enraged.

He took in the sight of bedraggled hair, the blackened skin, the torn clothing. "I'll call the police," he offered to the room in general. He moved to the ancient phone in the study, still visible to those in the kitchen. With one hand on the switch hook and the other on the receiver, he stood on the fringes of the activity and called the authorities _._

Jane noticed Caius standing in the doorway of the kitchen before using the phone in the other room. She could hear him speaking to someone about the woman they found at the front door. He used words like _dirty_ and _damaged_ , and Jane wasn't sure what to make of it. The girl opened her eyes, seeming to wake up from a stupor, and Jane had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle a scream as she saw the girl's eyes. They oozed from the corners, and her pupils were huge, half-hidden under thick pools of blood. She blinked, and fat tears trailed down the dirt on her face.

"Good God," Marcus murmured. "Are you feeling up to telling us your name?" He was all professional, as though he was a physician and not a stockbroker. The girl shook her head, wincing at the motion. A hand tentatively crept to her throat, conveying her problem with speaking.

"Well, the police should be on their way," Didi said, patting the girl on the arm. "Shall we help you to a shower, dear girl?"

At the weak nod, the women all gathered together and moved in the direction of slowly ascending the staircase at the back of the house. The men left them to their 'women's work', retiring to the study to be near the front of the house for when emergency personnel arrived. That was Marcus's thought, at least.

Caius had other plans.

* * *

The women helped the girl into the shower stall upstairs in the guest bedroom. They had varying thoughts of shock and horror, with Didi being completely clueless, Jane having terrible suspicions, and the stranger trying to live minute by minute. She admitted to herself that the warm water felt like a tiny slice of heaven after the hell she'd climbed out of. She wasn't even self conscious of being naked in front of her lover's wife and the woman that must be one of their mothers. She watched the wife move to the clothing draped over the sink's edge, wondering why she would bother to try to scrub it clean. She seemed to need something to do with her hands in order to feel useful. And then Jane unbuttoned the pocket of the skirt and pulled the gold watch from its depths. Her head snapped up, and she met the eyes of the girl in the shower. A slow nod for acknowledgement, and the wife dropped the birthday gift into the trash, hastily covering it with paper while her mother-in-law was preoccupied. So much was explained in that moment, with nothing in the background but the sound of the water running and Didi _tsking_ as she ran a washcloth over the girl's arm.

Jane rushed to the window in the bedroom and looked out. There was nobody on the street, no flashing red and blue lights heading their way. Her husband's mother interrupted her building panic by towing the girl that was almost certainly her husband's mistress into the room. There was a towel around her hair and one around her body that she clung to. Didi rummaged in the closet and emerged with a fluffy white robe. Once they had wrapped her in the robe and tucked her in the bed under the covers, Jane drew Didi into the hallway.

"There's something not right, Mother," Jane started.

"Oh, pish-posh. She's clearly been injured, maybe even wrecked her vehicle. Let the police come and figure it out."

"But, Mother, I think—I think Caius _knows her_ ," Jane tried again.

"Nonsense. From where? Don't let your imagination run away with you, for goodness' sake."

Fed up with the older woman's obtuseness, she grabbed Didi's arm before she took off down the stairs. "Just be careful. _Please_."

Shaking her off, Didi headed down the stairs in search of her husband and son. It was preposterous to imagine anything was amiss with her own son. As she rounded the corner into the study, she caught sight of her husband of thirty years lying in a pool of blood before indescribable pain crashed into the back of her skull. Her son's malicious face was the last thing she saw looming over her before she lost consciousness.

* * *

 **That's** **two down. How will Caius fix this?**


	3. Chapter 3

Edward wanders into the bedroom, sweeping his light along the walls and floors. The bed is disturbed, and not in a 'I just rolled out of bed and didn't bother to make it' kind of way. The pillows are thrown on the floor, the bedspread half off. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but it looks like a struggle occurred. The closet door is open, so he walks over and looks in. There's not much there, confirming his theory that he's standing in the guest bedroom.

Sighing, he heads back down the stairs into the kitchen. Unlocking the back door, he steps out into the darkness of the modest yard. There's a narrow stretch of lawn, a bit of garden along the low brick wall. There's a small shed in the back, so Edward heads down there. There's a lock on the door, so he finds himself frowning again. He thinks about it for a second before walking around to the side and peering in the half moon window. His light hits on a shovel in the middle of the floor, covered in dirt. The rest of the tools are hanging on pegs on the wall, and are almost obsessively clean.

"Just circumstantial, Cullen," he murmurs to himself, pushing down the building uneasiness.

Giving up for now, he walks around the house to the front yard again, nodding at the uniformed officer stringing up caution tape across the front yard. He glances at his watch, wondering if he should bug Hale again. Staring at the house makes him wish he could investigate the rest of it, but he knows it's smarter to wait until the fire is completely cool, despite his gut telling him he shouldn't wait until the morning to get back in there.

All houses hold secrets, and burned out houses hold more. _This house_ , though… Edward just knows this house is hiding something sinister.

* * *

After checking on the stranger, Jane hurried to grab her cell phone from her room. She was not going to take any chances, and she _knew_ something was not right. She dialed 911, telling them that someone had collapsed on her front porch and they showed signs of trauma. After reassurances that a cruiser was close and would be there soon, Jane went back to the guest bedroom.

She looked at the girl objectively; a little younger, probably prettier when not in this state. Curvier, from what she'd seen in the bathroom. Jane had a stick figure, and she knew her value came from her parents' money and not her looks. Still, she felt foolish. She and Caius had never had romance or even affection, but he never failed to be intimate with her once a week. A duty, she knew. In her heart, she knew, but she brutally buried it. She had hobbies, fake friends, and charities she was devoted to. She didn't allow herself to dream of more. Maybe she needed this jolt. She would file for divorce and find some happiness. If they could get out of this current mess, that was.

An odd smell niggled at her, and she took a deep breath. _Smoke_! Rushing, Jane grabbed the girl's closest arm, placing a finger over her mouth when her eyes flew open. Tugging, she managed to yank her up and they stumbled together to the doorway. Jane glanced at the stairs and saw the curl of grey smoke winding its way up. Scared beyond belief, she quickly headed the other way.

"Oh, Ja-ane," she heard Caius sing out from somewhere down the stairs. His high-pitched voice absolutely terrified her.

Her heart was slamming into her ribs, and the other woman grappled with her, squeezing her arms tightly and clawing at her. Her eyes were wide with fear, and Jane knew there was only one choice. She leaned into her ear and whispered quietly, catching her eyes and making sure they understood each other.

" _Jane_!" Caius yelled impatiently.

She yelped as she realized he was closer than she'd thought. She ran, holding tight to the hand of her new comrade. There was a safe room in the closet of her bedroom, and they had to get there and get it unlocked before he caught up to them.

"Why are you running, Jane? Trying to save the life of the whore I've already killed once?"

The women made it to the closet, and Jane thought she heard sirens in the distance. But Caius was closer.

"Belllllaaaaa!" he called, long and low.

Jane's eyes snapped to Bella's as the woman trembled so hard her knees almost gave out. Jane's fingers flew over the keypad and the door clicked. She pulled hard, and as it opened, she shoved Bella inside before spotting Caius standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet. His face was twisted in fury, pure evil in his eyes. Tears streamed down Jane's face as she backed into the safe room, pulling the door behind her.

"Fuck you, Caius!" she hissed as it closed.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked closed, and she pushed the button to set the lock. They both jumped as there was loud banging on the other side.

Jane dropped her head to the door, her throat dry and her heartbeat rapid. She turned to Bella, finding her huddled on the floor. She went and sat next to her, wrapping her arms around her and bursting into hysterical sobs.

* * *

Edward has to wait until the morning to ensure the house is completely cooled down. There's an officer stationed in front of the house to prevent anyone from messing with the crime scene. Hale agreed that there was at least enough evidence to consider it such. He's had no new information about the whereabouts of Jane Volturi, and Edward is extremely worried about her fate at this point.

Unable to sleep, Edward sits in his kitchen nursing a bottle of whiskey. He stares at the liquid in his glass as though it contains the answers to life before throwing it back and slamming the glass down. There is something about the owner that doesn't settle well, and his gut is tied in knots over the wife. Then there's the phone call that the police attributed to a mistake in addresses. What do people set fires to cover? Other crimes, from fraud to murder. It's the thought of murder that worries Edward. What if Caius murdered Jane, and Edward is sitting here drinking instead of finding her body? What if Caius leaves the hospital and makes a run for it, getting away scot-free?

Frustrated, he stands from the table and heads to the shower. He cleans up, puts on fresh clothes, and goes back out into the darkness. It's around four in the morning, so he finds a fast food joint that never closes and orders a coffee. Not surprisingly, it tastes like shit, but he figures it's better than being buzzed when he goes back to do what he knows he's not supposed to do. He was told to wait until seven and meet Hale at the house, but he just can't wait any longer.

There's a cruiser parked on the street, and Edward figures his first obstacle is to sweet talk his way past the officer. Approaching the driver's window, he sees the last thing he ever expected to find.

Blood and what can only be brain matter are splattered all over the window and inside of the car. Afraid that the whiskey will make a reappearance, he crosses the street and climbs back in his truck to make the call. He drops his forehead to the steering wheel as he tries to get the images of the bashed in face of the cop out of his mind. The phone rings incessantly, and he curses loudly when he gets kicked into voicemail.

"Hale, this is a fucking emergency. The cop stationed outside the house appears to have had his head smashed in. Why aren't you answering your phone? Call me back when you get this, _after_ you send emergency personnel of all kinds."

He throws his cell on the passenger seat, debating if he should call 911 himself. There's nothing to be done for the cop, so he opens the glove compartment and takes out his personal gun, checking the chamber and the magazine before tucking it in his waistband. He exits the truck, standing there in the street and staring at the house.

"What the fuck are you hiding?"

* * *

Jane is too terrified to open the door. There's no telling what's happened outside. The second coming, an apocalypse, or merely Caius lying in wait, are all a possibility. Bella still hasn't spoken, nor does Jane expect her to. Even without Caius admitting he thought he'd killed her, it's obvious now what happened. Bella found the watch that Jane gave to Caius and confronted him. Caius strangled her, assumed her dead, and buried her. Near their house? There is a new house going up down the street, and the cement truck is due in the next two days. He would know that; they'd discussed the prospect of new neighbors and the fact that the old house on the lot had been torn down.

Shivering, Jane huddles closer to Bella, who's asleep for the time being. Jane finds herself watching her breathe to ensure she hasn't died. She feels oddly responsible for the young woman, who shares the same fault as Jane; trusting Caius. It's probably ridiculous to care about the woman that had been sleeping with her husband, but it's painfully clear that he'd mislead her, too. Otherwise, there would have been no reason to try to kill her. This is not someone having a good laugh at Jane's expense. This is a victim.

She jumps out of her skin at the thump on the other side of the door. She hears it again, so she untangles from Bella and gets up, going to the door.

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

Her breathing becomes choppy with her uncertainty. What if it's the police? What if it's fire rescue?

What if it's Caius come to finish what he started?

* * *

 **Who do you think is on the other side of the door?**


	4. Chapter 4

**If you match up the _thumps_ , you can see that Edward is in the same time frame as the women now. There's only one flashback this chapter. **

* * *

Edward stands on the street with his coffee, staring at the house and wavering between staying put and starting his investigation. The dead cop is a major turnoff. What the hell happened in this damn house yesterday that's worth a cop's life?

And then he catches movement in an upstairs window. It's dark, but the street lights give enough of a glow to see by. Still, he decides it's only his imagination and takes another sip of coffee. The world is quiet at this time of morning, and the ground is wet from the overnight rain. Streaky clouds hover over the moon, further restricting his vision. Thinking he'll call Jasper again, he turns to his truck.

 _Thump. Thump._

Edward looks over his shoulder apprehensively.

 _Thump. Thump._

What in the fuck could be making that noise?

 _Thump. Thump._

Dropping the cup on the edge of his truck bed, he stares at the charred doorway of the house before he pulls the gun from his waistband. Right about now it resembles a gaping maw, ready to devour him into its dark void. He crosses the street, not taking a second look at the cruiser, and heads up the front walk. With his gun held low, he pulls back the slide to chamber a round before raising it to just below eye level and cautiously climbing the front steps. He glances around the foyer before heading inside, then he looks to the left into the burnt room before looking to the right at the untouched room.

 _Thump, thump, thump._

The sound is definitely coming from the second story, so Edward carefully makes his way to the kitchen and peers out the window of the back door. The door to the shed is standing wide open, and when he checks the back door, he finds it unlocked. _I know I locked it back before I left_. He makes a slow arc toward the staircase and peers into the unknown above him. He releases the safety on his gun and begins the climb.

 _Thump. Thump._

"Here goes nothing."

* * *

Jasper curses loudly as he hears Cullen's voicemail greeting. Frustrated and too tired for this shit, he leaves a terse message.

"Cullen, this is Lieutenant Hale. Caius Volturi left the hospital AMA. That can't be a good thing. Mrs. Volturi's cell phone has been located; the ping came back as being within a one-mile triangulation around the area where their home is located. In other words, her phone is most likely in the home." Jasper sighs heavily, scrubbing his eyes with his fingers. "Whatever you do, _do not_ go into that house. I'm beginning to think you were right, and this is all a massive cover up for murder. I've sent a squad car, and I'll be there shortly. _Just stay put_."

He hangs up the phone, a feeling of dread in his gut, and grabs his jacket and his keys before heading out.

* * *

 _Stupid fucking bitches and their need to stick their nose in every fucking thing._ He swings the bloody shovel at the control panel again and again. Sweat drips from his temples, but he ignores it. He has to get to them before the police discover them hiding out in the safe room.

"Just open the door, Jane!" he screeches in frustration.

 _Fucking cunt whore bitch!_

He swings again, and a piece of the plate covering the panel falls off. Fueled by fury and a demon's rage, he beats on it over and over and over.

 _Thump! Thump! Thump!_

His efforts are rewarded when another chunk of metal hits the floor. He takes a second to wipe the sweat off his forehead and catch his breath. The safe room is soundproof if he remembers correctly, but he's tempted to yell at his wife and mistress some more. If one of them would just _listen_ and _open the door_!

 _Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump!_

Caius bangs incessantly, laser focused on one thing and one thing only.

Covering up his secrets, at any cost.

* * *

Bella tried to scream, but his hands closed around her throat before she could get enough air down into her lungs. He squeezed, spurred on by the drugs racing through his system. He felt invincible, because no one was going to spill his dirty secrets if he had anything to say about it. Her face started to change color, and he smiled at the way she clawed at his hands. Stupid girl should have known he couldn't be stopped; he was all-powerful. Giving her a shake made her eyes widen further, and he chuckled.

She kicked, trying to reach any part of him that she could. She caught him in the balls, and he dropped her on the floor like a ragdoll. Bella dragged in air, feeling it scrape its way down her ravaged throat. Kicking him didn't have the intended effect, though. He only became more enraged, stalking her across the floor as she tried to scramble for the door. With a roar, he grabbed her by the hair and flung her, sending her sailing into the table leg. The pain in her skull was enough to make her teeth ache and her eyes water. She shrieked, but he reached down and wrapped his hands around her neck again, cutting off her air supply, and therefore her scream. Bruises were already forming, giving him something to smile at. His salvation would be in her death.

He pressed his thumbs into her trachea, hoping to crush her windpipe. Her pupils were blown out and her body was slow to react. She lost consciousness as he ruthlessly compressed her throat between his large hands. Satisfied, he dropped her to the floor and then kicked her lifeless body once for good measure.

Caius looked around for something to wrap the body in; he'd bury it in that empty lot just a few doors down from his house, and then he'd have time to go to the stupid party his wife insisted on throwing. He found a thick blanket and rolled the body into it, throwing it over his shoulder and carrying it down in the service elevator to the parking garage. He popped the cargo hold on his SUV and dumped it in there without remorse.

Whistling, he rounded to the driver's seat and climbed inside. He'd have to stop somewhere and buy a shovel, but it was worth it. The cement truck would cover any evidence left of his vindication. Everything would be back in its rightful place by the end of the night.

* * *

Edward hears shouting now, a male voice. He swears he hears the name of the homeowner's missing wife, Jane. Now that he has solid proof that someone is in the house, he's even more careful with checking rooms.

 _Thump! Thump!_

The bastard is back to beating on something. Edward can't figure out what the guy's doing, but it can't be good if the fire and the dead cop are any indication. He feels like Captain Idiot for going into the house, but he can't shake the thought that the wife is here, somewhere. He would feel a million times worse if she died while he was sitting in his truck.

 _Thump. Thump._

He wonders if the crazy man is tiring out. He's not knocking as loud as he was.

Either that or he's accomplished his goal.

* * *

Bella wakes with a start, realizing that the thumping in her dreams is actually coming from outside the door. She jumps up and scurries to the very back of the room, her eyes wheeling around her in panic. She can't remember where she is, but if Caius comes back for her, she's truly dead this time.

 _Thump! Thump!_

 _Thump. Thump._

She spots the wife in the corner nearest the door. She's holding a piece of a metal shelving unit in her hands like someone would wield a baseball bat. Slowly, Bella shuffles forward. Her entire body hurts, every joint and every muscle, the tendons feeling overstretched and her skin on fire. Her throat is a desert without an oasis, wrapped in sandpaper.

She taps the other woman on the shoulder, then cowers with her hands up when Jane swings the metal piece in her direction, stopping just before hitting her.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Jane puts the shelving bracket down and hugs Bella. "How are you feeling?"

Bella shrugs and touches her throat, then points to the door.

 _Thump! Thump! Thump!_

As if to confirm her unspoken question, he beats on the door this time.

"Caius is trying to break in," Jane says quietly. "I don't know what will happen if he succeeds, but I do know I'm not going down without a fight."

Bella nods and looks for a piece of metal to pull off the set of shelves for her own protection. Standing side by side, the two women take up defensive positions just inside the door.

The thumping stops, and Jane curses the sound proofing. She can't figure out why, but it seems as if he's stopped trying to gain access to the safe room.

Several minutes pass, and Bella's arms are weeping with the weight of the makeshift weapon in her raised hands. If he's given up, then they can relax. She taps Jane again, and gestures for her to put down her pole.

It seems that so much time is passing, so they sit down again near the door. Their weapons are at their fingertips, just in case. Bella starts to doze off again when she hears it. She taps Jane on the arm; she had just fallen asleep with her head against the wall.

There's a terrible squawking sound, and the door begins to shudder. Panicked, the women jump up, swiping at the sleep in their eyes and drying sweaty palms on their clothes before preparing to defend themselves from the crazy man they both made the mistake of loving.

The door shifts again, and a crack opens. Jane whimpers, and Bella places a reassuring hand on her arm.

Light begins to just barely show through the tiny opening. Then the beam grows as the door opens wider. Swallowing hard and wincing from the pain, Bella leaps in front of Jane and brings her piece of metal down hard.

* * *

 **Was it Caius or Edward?**

 **I do know that Edward should have called 911 and not just his friend the lieutenant. But to make it all work out for me, he couldn't. Let's just say he had too much of that whiskey to do the right thing, because he shouldn't have gone inside either.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Will Edward save the women, or are they all doomed to die at Caius's hands?**

* * *

Edward reaches the end of the hall and what he assumes is the master bedroom. The other rooms appear to be empty as he passes them and peeks inside. He hopes to hell Jane's body isn't rotting in the shed or in a closet. He creeps into the burnt master bedroom, visions of a ruthless, blood soaked killer in his mind's eye.

 _Thump! Thump! Thump!_

Edward nearly pisses himself when he hears the sound again, just on the other side of the closet wall. He inches forward, his gun raised and at the ready. He reaches the doorway and stops with his back pressed to the wall. He swallows the lump in his throat, wiping his sweaty brow on his shoulder. He counts down in his head, then swings around the doorframe, his gun aimed in the direction of the sound of banging metal.

"Freeze! Seattle Fire Department! Drop the fucking shovel!"

He's not prepared for the look on his face when the madman turns and lurches in his direction. It's the same man from the sidewalk, the one from the picture on the mantel posing with his smiling wife. Only his eyes look like they're lit with the fires of hell, his mouth is twisted in an angry grimace, and his hair is plastered to his head with sweat. He's covered in blood and things better not thought about. And Edward knows he's just been added to his list of people to kill.

" _Who_ the fuck are _you_?" he rasps.

 _There's a reason I didn't go to the academy!_ Edward thinks in a panic. "Just drop the weapon!"

They stand there staring at each other, Caius determined to kill anyone that knows his secrets, and Edward trying to decide if he's justified in simply shooting him. His arms are steady as he aims the gun at the monster in the closet.

Without warning, Caius pitches awkwardly toward him with the bloody shovel held high. Edward fires three times, and watches the red spots bloom and spread across the lunatic's chest just before he collapses.

Edward's ears are ringing painfully as he steps over Caius and moves to the door of the safe room. Everything in the closet has been reduced to ashes except for the reinforced metal door that was only left charred in the fire. The control panel is exposed after Caius destroyed the cover, and he studies the wires for a few seconds before pulling out his pocket knife and cutting the red wire. The airlock hisses and he pulls on the door, unaware of the evil still lurking behind him.

* * *

"God damn it, Cullen!" Jasper shouts into his phone as he hears the outgoing voicemail message again. "I need to know you're safe and not in that fucking house! Why are you so bad about leaving your phone in the truck? Look, the labs came back, and Volturi has LSD _and_ PCP in his system, for fuck's sake. He's dangerous, stay the _fuck_ away from him!"

He throws the phone down and flips on his lights and siren, pressing the gas pedal that much harder.

His gut is telling him to be terrified for his friend.

* * *

"Oh my God, Bella! That's not Caius!" Jane shouts. Her voice echoes in the metal room.

Edward groans from where he landed on the floor, feeling like his head has just split open like a pumpkin dropped on the sidewalk. He could swear there's water covering his face, drowning him. He gasps, and everything clears as he takes a deep breath. There's still some ringing in his ears, and horrible pain at his temple.

He blinks several times, trying to focus on the two women standing over him. A brunette in a robe that looks like she's seen better days… and Jane Volturi in the flesh.

"Jane," he mumbles.

She frowns, confused that he knows her name. "Who are you?"

"Another body to add to the pile."

The three of them look up at the new voice, seeing Caius standing just inside the safe room. Blood seeps from multiple holes in his chest, and his face is ashen and drenched in sweat. Edward shifts to his knees, but Caius throws a punch to his face that lands on his cheekbone, jarring his bones and his brain. He feels like a failure as he wavers before falling over. He was trying to save Jane's life, and now he's handed these two women over to the psychopath.

He feels small hands on his shoulders, then roaming his chest. The brunette is feeling around for something, and Edward soon realizes she saw his gun before he went down for the second time. He meets her gaze, her eyes bloody and her pupils large, and he feels a rush of empathy for whatever she's been through. He picks the gun up from the floor, where it landed by his waist, and hands it to her.

She stands and raises the gun at an advancing Caius, who is headed for his wife. There's no warning before she pulls the trigger, and this time the hole opens up in the middle of the maniac's head. He drops like a felled tree, and Jane screams with her hands over her ears.

"Seattle Police! Drop your weapon and put your hands up!"

Edward could weep with relief at the sound of Jasper's voice over the constant ringing. So he does.

* * *

Bella pulls the trigger and watches her nightmare end, and then finally, finally allows her knees to buckle. She drops next to the man that essentially saved them, tears streaming down her face. She raises her hands up on either side of her head and waits for the cop to arrest her.

He doesn't, though. He goes to Caius and checks for his pulse before checking on Jane. Bella turns away from them at the gentle hand on her arm.

"My name is Edward. You're safe now." He straightens into a sitting position, the pain beginning to fade from his head.

Unable to help herself, Bella throws her arms around him and sobs soundlessly. Her body trembles and shakes, bowing her slender frame against his muscular one. His arms encircle her shoulders and hold on tight as she cries.

"Don't you ever do that again, Cullen, you hear me?"

Edward looks up at Jasper, and sees the relief on his face.

"Not a problem, Hale. Not a fucking problem."

* * *

Edward is released from the hospital after an annoyingly long eight hours. He needed stitches for the blow to his head, courtesy of Bella. His cheek and eye are bruised, but the ringing has finally stopped in his ears.

Unfortunately, he has to go back to the house of horrors. He has to complete the actual arson investigation that started all this mess. When he pulls up to the curb, the premonition of a bloody revenant causes him to shudder.

"Get a grip, Cullen. There's a cop here, he'll have your back if the ghost of Caius rises up to haunt you."

He does not feel better after that pep talk.

Edward steps through the front door and goes straight for the burnt out front room, the one he's been itching to get a look at since the night before. There's sunlight streaming through the holes that used to be the front windows, so he leaves his flashlight in his pocket. He has a clipboard and pen at the ready, where he already filled out what he could while he was stuck at the hospital for observation. He looks at the walls, searching for evidence of accelerant. He doesn't feel the usual satisfaction in his job; even if he proves arson, Caius is dead and Jane had nothing to do with it. She shouldn't have to live with this mess he created.

He moves to the sofa where Caius was supposedly napping, and as he peers behind it, that's when he spots them. Stunned, he chokes on his tongue and tries not to dry heave before quickly pulling out his phone.

"Hale? Yes, it's me again. Shut up, fucker. I finally got to do the inspection of the Volturi house, and you're not gonna believe what I've found…"

He barely gets the words out before he runs outside to be sick in the bushes, the picture of the charred bodies burned into his retinas.

* * *

She opens her eyes slowly and meets the sweet green gaze of the man from the safe room. "Edward?" she croaks.

He smiles gently, and she has to catch her breath. "Here, have some water." He pours her a cupful and hands it to her, and she just stares at him as she accepts it and takes a sip. He's sporting a shiner and his hair is a mess. Bella wonders how badly she hurt him when she nailed him in the head, considering that it's covered in a bandage. He's the most attractive man she's ever seen outside of a movie.

"You're here? Why?" her voice comes out as a scratchy whisper.

"I wanted to see for myself that you were going to be okay." He thinks she looks like hell, but he just knows she's beautiful under it all. Her bruises are darker now, around her throat and under her eyes. She's had stitches on the back of her head, and he figures she'll be pleased that they didn't have to shave her hair. He also hopes she won't mind that he had a look at her file as part of his investigation. At least, that's the excuse he's going with.

She nods. "I think so. My mom is on her way." She swallows more water to ease the burn, and for something to do. Jane had already been by; she would move back into her parents' home and go to therapy.

"That's good. I guess you'll be here for awhile."

"Yes, I guess so," she whispers. She knows she needs time to heal, both physically and mentally.

"Do you mind if I come back and visit you?" he asks shyly.

Does she mind? No, she doesn't mind if the handsome man that saved her comes back to see her. "I'd like that."

Edward smiles again and picks up her closest hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. Bella blushes, and he finds that he likes that look on her. He thinks he'd like to see that look on her face every day for a really long time.

* * *

 **Thank you all so much for reading, and happy Halloween!**


End file.
